


Belly Ache

by blythechild



Series: Brainfarts I wrote down [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Halloween, Married Couple, Other, Trick or Treating, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5139269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythechild/pseuds/blythechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hugh has a tendency to overdo it on Halloween, and Maude always has to clean up after him.</p><p> </p><p>This is an original work and is suitable for all audiences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Belly Ache

Something growled from the corner of the room again, which wasn't all that unusual, but it was starting to piss Maude off. She folded over the edge of her paper.

"Problem?" It felt like she'd asked this question about a dozen times already this morning.

"No." This time the growl was definitely Hugh. Maude went back to reading.

Two minutes later the sickly growl happened again.

"Would you like some dry toast?" She discarded her newspaper with a long suffering sigh.

"No, I would _not_ like some toast."

"Tea, perhaps?"

"No."

"How about the Jaws of Life to help extract that large stick you've rammed up your ass then?"

Hugh glared from his easy chair in their apartment, his undead pallor looking worse than normal.

"Your smugness is unbecoming, dearest." He said it like she'd farted in front of the Queen.

"You do this every year, Hugh. My smugness is to be expected." She got up to make herself another coffee. While she was in the kitchen she'd look around for some liquid laxative. She was sure that there was some left over from last Halloween...

"It's not my fault!" Hugh whined after her like the nine-year-old he became when he felt ill.

"It absolutely IS your fault. How many times have I told you that if you gorge yourself on kiddie brains on the _one holiday_ designed to encourage type 2 diabetes, you'll feel awful for days afterwards. Not to mention that you risk outing us as the neighborhood zombie couple, and then it'll be all flaming pitchforks and studded baseball bats and barracades made of exploded cars, and we'll never have another moment's peace around here. And I'll almost certainly never get voted onto the School Board..." Where was that laxative? It was chocolate and everything - Hugh would scarf it down like a fresh cadaver if she waved it under his nose...

"I _hate_ it when you're like this, Maude..."

"You mean 'right'?"

" _No_... I mean... well, how do _you_ resist them? This never happens to you." There was a determined wrinkle of chair leather and Maude didn't have to look to recognize that Hugh had settled in for a good zombie pout.

"I can resist because the little blighters taste terrible. They are positively saccharine. If I worried about dental hygiene anymore, I'd be concerned with cavities. Children have been and always will be a dreadfully overrated meal." She'd given up on the laxative, but there was a box of All Bran on top of the fridge. Given the amount of kids Hugh ate last night, one box wasn't going to cut it. He'd probably need a dumptruck full of the stuff. It seemed that a trip to the grocery store was in her future. "Besides, Hugh, you've always had sloppy impulse control. That's how we got into this fix in the first place."

"I said I was sorry..."

"I know, I know," She wandered back into the living room in time witness Hugh's pathetic 'bad husband' face. "And I've forgiven you for getting turned into an undead cannibal and then coming home to munch on my brains. I told you: we're cool about that. But you have to admit, there's a pattern there, darling."

Maude cocked an eyebrow and Hugh withered in his chair. It was satisfying for a moment, and then she felt sorry for him and his discomfort, as she always did. He tried hard, but he wasn't much of a zombie, and that was alright by her. He was still her Hugh, after all. She softened her expression as she picked up her purse and slipped on some shoes.

"Where are you going?" he asked a bit fearfully.

"Greenblatt's. To buy a metric ton of bran buds. You're gonna need a whole lot of fibre to work those kids out." She gave him a bright smile. "Back in a jiff."

"I'm sorry, love," he said quickly and she ducked back from the doorway to give him a genuine 'I know' before she left. Maybe she'd go to the hardware store too and buy a heavy duty steel chain for next time... that would probably work much better than a laxative, she mused.


End file.
